Inconsistent Rivalry
by The Akk Attack
Summary: Grazetti, a typical, air-headed goblin shaman, is just out in the Stranglethorn jungle, minding her own business, when... Where the hell did that friggin' gnome come from?


**Hello, again! It's been a long, long time since I've written anything! This was started only a week or two after Cataclysm was released and I had rolled my goblin shaman, Grazetti. It was a silly idea spawned from me sketching Graz and Skilly, my gnome rogue fighting one late night, and this entire encounter is the result. It's my first time writing a fight scene. Graz is also my first character to have any sort of magic, so it's new to me to write about a character with any sort of non-physical power. At least, I hope you like it.**

**There's a tiny bit of 'bad' language, but's it's nothing above PG-13.**

* * *

Skillywidget minutely shifted on the low, shaded branch she was sprawled out along. The slick, patchy green moss that clung to the smooth bark of the jungle tree apparently held an impeccable amount of water, which quickly soaked into the the gnome's clothing. The dark, handsewn leather was thin and worn, and the dew easily seeped between the admittedly poor stitching. It didn't matter, though. In the Stranglethorn jungle, everything was always humid and hot. Already, in the early morning, ethereal steam was rising from the forest floor, illuminated in the wide shafts of pale light that pierced the canopy. The water content of the air was so thick that the pale blonde hair the rogue usually wore back in twin ringlets behind her ears was winding loose of its braids and sticking to her forehead and temples.

The gnome, with care born of a wanting to avoid sound, plucked at the side of her tunic, attempting to unstick the clammy material. A figure a ways below her, clueless of the rogue's presence, fussed and fretted over some likely worthless bit of foliage illuminated by a spotlight of green-hued light. Skillywidget slowly brought one knee forewards and pushed herself up, freezing when the thing below her let out a shout.

The gnome was still as death until she was sure she had not been seen- which in itself was nearly impossible, as the slant of light was angled over her shadowed perch. She paused again, kneeling on the sturdy yet slippery branch, her light-hued eyes never moving from her target. Then, she slipped the pair of axes at her hips out of their sheathes and quietly dropped onto the clueless goblin below.

"Stupid son of a frecking fat nubgoblin!" Grazetti raged, shaking her hand in pain. Thin spines were embedded in the flesh of her palm, which burned and itched terribly thanks to the _stupid freaking_ plant. All she was trying to do was hack it down so she could bring it home for her brother's fancy-shmancy magic-whatever, and when it had been too tough to cut, she had tried to rip it out of the ground. After all, she was rather strong, if she could say so herself. But it had to have little thorns that apparently had some sort of minor poison in them to ward away potential predators, and _of course_ those thorns could poke through leather gloves! She wasn't going to _eat it_ anyways! Just cut it up and boil it or whatever Kraz needed to do with it. What a selfish, dumb plant!

With a loud, whiny sigh, the little shaman sat and began the painstaking process of picking the miniscule prickles from her hand after gingerly removing the glove. Her sharp features scrunched up as she squinted to see the slim thorns, unconsciously sticking her tongue out to one side and biting it in an expression of complete concentration. She twitched her head to one side, trying to shake the loose strands of shimmery, deep purple hair that wasn't matted to her face with the heat out of her field of vision. Grazetti wondered to herself as she worked if she could ask some bored spirit to forcefully eject the stupid herb from the earth, but decided she was in enough trouble as it was for upsetting the spirits a week or so earlier, and that her best bet was to let the whole ordeal wait for awhile.

She couldn't really remember what all the fuss was about anyways. Something to do with "polluting" an admittedly useless stream or whatever with engine oil. Nothing too big, the water washed it away just fine. Hey, she wasn't about to just dump that stuff on the _ground_ either! But the water spirits- and earth, for that matter- had refused to speak to her since then, no matter how many times she apologized and flattered and complimented casually how nice and clean the rivers looked.

As it was, when Graz had removed as many tiny stickers as she could catch between her delicate claws, she decided her best bet was to just plain kick the damn stalk of whatever the fel the plant was right over. To press it over at such an angle beneath her boot that the brittle stem just snapped would be enourmously satisfying after all. She stood, shaking her still-itching hand and commenting pointedly aloud "Amazing how the _earth_ works! What sort of geniuses are responsible for such an effective defensive system?" for good measure.

Just as the dark green-skinned goblin was swinging her leg up to smash the plant over, something dropped from above, knocking her into the ground. Of course, she shrieked aloud, instinctly reaching for the stubby mace and round wooden shield she had set beside the plant when she had first discovered it. The clawed fingers came up short, actually knocking the hilt of her mace further away in her desperate grope for it. The impacting force that had driven away any air that hadn't been screamed out of her lungs still loomed above the goblin as she struggled, yet as a polished hatchet blade thudded into the earth only a few inches from her nose, all the expelled air came rushing back in a gasp. Battle instincts- or, in her case, sheer dumb luck born out of the adreneline rush of combat- kicked in, and she landed a solid kick in the belly of her attacker, shoving the leather-clad gnome away and over.

Skillywidget grunted as her tailbone painfully struck the ground, quickly rolling to the side and flashing to her feet. A small knife appeared in her hand to replace the hatchet she had dropped in the brief clash, seemingly from nowhere. As the disheveled rogue righted herself, facing the goblin, she sneered at the shaman's clumsy fumbling with her metal-rimmed shield.

"Hey hey hey!" Grazetti shrieked in indignation as the gnome jumped at her a second, less subtle time, her arm barely through the strap of her shield. She fell back onto her rear in surprise, raising the buckler above her head to block the whistling descent of the flashing knife. The impact jarred her arm, yet the dull thunk of the blade stopping short on the reinforced wood and the thwarted hiss of the rogue was an entirely welcomed sound considering the situation. That is, until Grazetti remebered the gnome still had an axe.

With a yelp, the shaman rocked her shield to her right, just in time for the hatchet to shrilly ring off the metal edge. With both the gnome's weapons momentarily out of the way, Grazetti took the offensive, shifting until her feet were beneath her, squaring off her bulwark and _shoving_ against the gnome with all her tiny might. With her predominant strength, she essentially plowed the surprised rogue over and into the ground, which would have potentially ended the brawl if the goblin had currently held her flanged mace with which to successfully [i]bash in the little scum-sucker's head[/i]. But she didn't. And the gnome still had her own weapons, her knife having wrenched loose when she was all but flattened out. So instead Grazetti dove away, retrieved her mace and, now finally as fully prepared as she wished she was when the fight began, sucked in a deep breath.

"What the _hell_ are you, some kind of psycho?" She shrieked, stamping a foot in agitation for emphasis. She was slightly out of breath and had to pause once between outbursts of her tirade. "What, do you have nothin' _better_ to do than hide in trees like a monkey and jump people?" The gnome, having again jumped to her feet with the same rogueish quickness, tensed threateningly, but Grazetti, stubborn and indignant as she was, pressed on. "Who do you think you _are?_ I oughta beat your freckin' brains out, if you've _got_ any!" She bumped a gloved fist into her palm, albeit awkwardly, encumbered by the shield and mace. "I mean, really, how _rude!"_

"Rude?" The gnome exclaimed, speaking at last. She was panting lightly as well from the struggle, and in her ears was a high-pitched ringing from being clobbered by the shield. "You're the one serving the _Horde_," she pointed one of her four fingers at the black, inverted horseshoe-esque Horde insignia etched into the wood of the goblin's bulwark. "I've got every reason there is to hack open _your_ empty head. Your lot," she spat in the goblin's direction, "are responsible for the deaths of loads of honest soldiers! And innocents! I've seen it happen. The Horde deserves nothing short of well-earned death."

Grazetti bristled. "The hell I do to _you?_ Uhm, hel-_lo_, I was just here, mindin' my own business, not killing any rude Alliance soldiers _at the moment,_ thank you very _mu_- Ack!"

Skillywidget rushed the shaman in the middle of her verbal barrage, knowing it was reckless as her opponent was both facing her and entirely aware of her presence- two things she never liked in a fight. Not to mention, the stupid green thing was armed. The rogue only hoped she could handle open combat like this, as the last thing on her mind was leaving what she had started undone. Besides, the light had faded somewhat and now any hope to hide and attack again would be worthless without any of the deep, dappled, constantly shifting shadows of the jungle understory to vanish into.

"Get the hell away from me!" The purple-haired goblin screeched, ducking behind her shield and stepping back, more-or-less out of apprehension. "Crazy son of a bitch!"

However, Skillywidget, instead of leaping upon her like some sort of wild animal as the shaman was expecting from the headlong rush, feinted to one side before diving around the defensive goblin and swiping up her fallen hatchet. Her knife was discarded as she reached for it, spinning off into the dirt in favor of the hugely preferred axe.

As the snarling gnome spun about to face the momentarily confused Grazetti, a single, warm drop of rain plopped square between her large, pale eyes. Skillywidget blinked like a surprised owl before suddenly shaking her head angrily, causing her messy braid hoops to slap about.

"Heh," Grazetti snickered from behind her shield, only the top half of her angled grin and dark green face visable.

"Shut up, bat ears!" The rogue snapped as more rain began to fall, the gentle pattering becoming more and more of a low hiss as the precipitation increased. In the time it took for their short exchange of glares and smirks, the rain had become close to a tropical downpour.

"Well!" Grazetti shouted over the sighing drone of rain. "Seems as though you're out of luck, stumpy. My good friends, the _spirits_," she gestured dramatically with her mace at the sky, noticing how the rogue's brows shot up, realization dawning upon her rounded face, "the _water_ spirits at that, and look how it rains! They certainly won't be too happy now, what with one of their _very loyal_ vassals being pestered by some rude little... garden decoration."

"...Are you off in the head?"

"What? N- no!" Grazetti tried to regain her composure and look.. shaman-ly. "I'm a shaman."

_Aw, crap_. Skillywidget glanced around the small clearing, shrinking in on herself despite the insult as if fearing some sort of vicious elemental would spring forth from the very raindrops themselves. A shaman? Spirits? The whole situation, to the gnome, suddenly seemed much more difficult. Not to mention, dangerous. Spirits could whip you off a cliff, or catch your clothing aflame, or suck you down into the earth, or wash you off the shore and out to sea to drown, or... Or... if there was a shaman around.

When the water did nothing but flatten their hair and darken their soaked clothing, Skillywidget, deciding the goblin was just full of hot air and trying to bluff her way out of it, twisted her tiny lips into a derisive snarl. "You godsdamn lie."

"Oh?" The goblin gloated, silently begging the spirits to forgive her and break their long silence treatment, if not just for the sake of the show, as she raised a hand and chanted an intimidating-sounding spell. Skillwidget gasped and ducked away, springing behind a nearby tree, her heart beginning to pound. Damn magic! It wasn't fair at all! Sure, she took huge advantages over her targets all the time, but that was just making use of what natural abilities she had. Magic was like _cheating!_

A rumbling, rainy silence broken by mumbled curses took the place of whatever hissing, crackling, burning, magic-y sounds Skillywidget had expected, and she peered from around the tree, burning with shame at having been so easily fooled by this... _ugly, facetious gremlin._

"C'mon, give me hand here, guys," the goblin seemed to be pleading into thin air, not noticing the gnome's disapproving glower until the opposing adversary had stepped out into the pouring clearing again.

"They're, uh," The shaman stammered, stung that the spirits were really _that_ upset as to ignore her in a time such as this and embarassed by the rogue's reproachful stare. "They're terribly busy, you see-"

"And you call _me_ crazy," Skillywidget snorted, emboldened by the failed display of power, balancing her twin hatchets in her gloved hands apprehensively.

"Hey! I am_ not_ crazy! I mean, I get called that a lot," she murmured as an afterthought, scratching at her limp, dark pigtails, "but... listen, are we going to actually do anything, or are we just-_ I was kidding!"_ Grazetti gasped, the gnome having lunged at her again. Holy freckin' gear grime! Were they going to keep doing this all day?

The little rogue was positively ferocious now, apparently as fed up with their light fracas as Grazetti was but twice as determined to finish the job once and for all.

"I was kidding! Completely kidding! The whole spirits thing was just a joke! Ha ha! Good times!" The shaman laughed forcibly between ducks and blocks with her shield. Although her strikes with the flanged mace were too slow for the quick, agile little rogue- however slowed by the rain as she was- the shield was what kept the hatchets from whacking open her neck or shoulder or something else vital.

As it was, this only added to Skillywidget's irritation with the impassability of the buckler, until she was positively snapping with rage. Everytime she swung one of the whetted axeheads into what she expected to be a fatal blow, that damn shield was thrust in the way. Even when one of the hatchets caught the edge of a ridge on the outstretched mace and flung it out of the distressed Grazetti's hand and into the brush with a violent slash from the gnome, no progress was made by the rogue beyond clashing against the aegis.

As the green shaman raised and successfully deflected another chop from one of the axe blades, loosing ground all the way in the forming mud, a good-sized, soggy sliver was sliced out of the wooden bulwark, and a thought lit up in the rogue's head.

She aimed pointedly for the shield, cleaving into it with brutal whacks of both her hatchets as if she were felling a tree. By now, Grazetti's arm and shoulder and chest were terrifically sore from all the jarring, tooth-rattling strikes and she had fallen to simply cowering behind the sodden shield until, hopefully, the rogue tired and offered an opening for her to... what? Fry the little sucker? No, magic was out of the question at the moment, apparently. If she could just get a moment to hopefully root out her MIA weapon amongst the ferns and other fascinating, exotic jungle shrubbery... All the while, she prayed and begged the elements to _just frecking listen to me for now and be angry later!_

Unbeknownst to Grazetti until a dreadfully strange, hollow-like thud reverberated through the wooden aegis, the rogue have every intention to remove the shield by force and hack it away herself. Now, panic overtook the goblin as she desperately tore her arm out of the straps, shoving her only protection away as a final axestroke cracked the wood down the middle. The metal rimming still held the entire thing intact, but a jagged, splintered hole had been opened up in the center of the buckler, rendering it useless.

"Hah!" The gnome crowed in triumph, yanking at the finalizing hatchet. It didn't budge, and she noticed the goblin still clutching the edges of the shield tightly, staring the rogue down with a wildly shocked expression.

"You can let go now," Skillywidget sneered, leaning slightly forwards through lack of fear from the apparently petrified goblin. Her light-colored hair was either matted against her face from the rain or hanging down around it in limp hanks, giving her a rather frightening, feral apperance. The goblin just looked like a recently drowned rat, with the rainwater running off the end of her long, narrow nose and her dark purple hair a soaking, tangled, untidy mess. Long, smoky trails of some sort of black makeup that had been painted around Grazetti's eyelids now slid off in the wet and drew smudgy streaks down her cheeks.

Grazetti's red eyes flicked nervously between the splintered shield and the rogue, who fancied mentally that the craven goblin was considering surrender. Maybe she would beg for mercy. Skillywidget had no intention of actually letting the thing go, let alone _live_. That'd be a complete insult to the Alliance. She tugged a few more times at the wrapped handle of her ensnared hatchet, and the shaman suddenly gave a wicked grin, twisting the shield slightly so the edge was facing Skilly's face. The gnome had only a moment to realize what her intentions were, her own smirk falling rather quickly, before the metal rim of the shield was sent slamming into her skull, unexpectedly shoved by the damned goblin.

Her head snapped back and her vision went white for a terrifying moment; a terrible empty tone ringing through her ears in place of the hush of rain. Dazed, the rogue staggered back through the mud, her grip loosening and slipping from the hatchet.

She blinked hard, furrowing her brow against the delayed crash of pain that filled her jarred skull. Fearful that she was now at the _goblin's_ mercy, the rogue swung clumsily out with her remaining weapon, desperately trying to clear the glare and rain from her eyes before her opponent could make a move.

Only a moment was spared for her vision to somewhat clear before again something struck the gnome, this time being the goblin herself as a whole. A gloved fist closed around the handle of Skillywdget's extra hatchet, another popping its knuckles against her jaw in a haphazard blow. The two fell into an admittedly comical, shrieking ball into the mud wrestling over the weapon.

"You're a psycho!" Grazetti screeched, the shrill voice making the thumping pain in Skillywidget's head all the worse. It was all she could do to hold on to her axe.

"Green _freak!_" The rogue grunted out, groping blindly for anything to retort with in her still-ringing head. The mud was churned into a sloppy mess as the two fought and rolled and struck, and the warm tropical rain, along with the sodden earth, soaked both to the bone during the brawl. Somewhere within the muddy struggle, Skilly's knee, after being yanked up, dug into the little shaman's gut and the goblin made a sickened sound as the air was knocked out of her.

As the shaman was left choking for a breath, Skillywidget, briefly elated when she realized she had the upper hand in that second, took the sudden opportunity to likewise forcefully swing up her elbow in its dark leather sleeve and successfully smashed into her opponent's nose. She thought she heard a crunch, but that could have been only wistful thinking on the rogue's part. A heavy rivulet of scarlet blood, oddly colorful against the shaman's dark skin, mixed in with the wet earth, rain and smearing makeup and ran down the gasping goblin's mouth and chin in a film of red. Grazetti's grip on the hatchet and on the gnome's hair slackened immediately, and the rogue finally reclaimed the hatchet for herself, tucking away from the dazed shaman and rolling nimbly to her feat.

Skillywidget's scalp ached fiercely, contributing to the continuous thud of her heartbeat as it seemingly ricocheted about in her skull. She reached up to gently touch the pale door-knocker of hair the little green bitch had been yanking on. Panting heavily from the tussle, she spat and was surprised to see her own blood against the rich earth. Writing it off as some injury obtained during the frantic fray, she turned her attention to her now entirely at-her-mercy opponent.

Grazetti floundered as she pushed herself up out of the mud, putting a clawed hand to her facial injury with obvious pain. As she did so, the arm that supported her slipped in the mud and she spat an embarrassingly vulgar curse as the sharp motion jarred her hand against her nose. There didn't seem to be visible structural damage, but Skillywidget, her thoughts darkening as she took in the complete control she now possessed over the situation, hoped something had broken inside.

The shaman glared up at her, an absolute mess with her mask of mud, running paint and blood. She removed her hand from her nose and seemed to barely notice the palmful of blood it was slicked in.

"You win," She grunted moodily, and Skillywidget noticed that both her hand and her voice shook in the slightest. Even her long ears were shaking somewhat, and the rogue wondered, doubtingly, if she could contain her disgust if the little thing started to cry.

"You win!" Grazetti repeated, her voice congested and throaty as she tried to speak around her injured and now swelling nose. "Ya just gonna stand dere an' stare? Expectin' me ta cry for ya not ta kill me? Why, do ya get off ta dat kinda stuff?" However brave and snarky the words may have been, their courage was lost to the meek tone the goblin spoke them in.

"You frecking coward! You're afraid to die! You should'a saved your breath." Skillywidget snapped scornfully. She raised the axe above her head, utterly ready to end the whole mess that had turned out to be more troublesome than she had originally expected. The goblin's pale eyes were riveted intensely on the axe, her rain-drenched, bloodied face paling with apprehensive horror as the weapon reached the top of its arc.

Grazetti flinched as a sudden, gale-like flurry of wind ripped through the clearing at her back, tearing at her clothing, ears and hair. It drove the rain like stingers through her drenched shirt. The gnome, stretched up in the motion of swinging the hatchet, was bowled over as if she were an autumn leaf and was sent sprawling onto the back with a wet _smack_ in the mud. The hatchet was thrown ever further, spinning off into the underbrush.

The shaman gaped, recognizing the familiar aura of energy beneath the wind that seemingly bypassed the worst of its force around her. The gnome was struggling to stand against the howling air that churned the branches and vines in the trees and sent the narrowest ones to rocking, slipping along the soaked dirt. Then the force picked up to a frightful strength, sending the gnome along the ground again in the likeness of a leaf in a storm. Beneath the scream of wind, Grazetti, glued to her spot in the mud in wonder, caught the surprised, outraged, terrified shrieks of the tumbling rogue as she was tossed, clawing at the earth in the brief moments she was right-side up.

When the clearing ran out, the gnome continued into the underbrush, crashing against foliage and the ankles of towering trees as she went. The winds finally abated to a more natural swaying breeze, leaving the disheveled, muddy gnome dozens of feet into the jungle and whiter than a sheet. The rain gentled as well, sighing into a light sprinkle that tapped against the leaves. The gnome lay in a heap, gasping for breath as the wind had stolen it out of her, her hair in a disarray as it had been pulled out of its braids and was thrown up about her head. It appeared that one of her gloves was gone- lost somewhere in the jungle, no doubt.

Using the immediate foliage was the only means that Skillywidget could manage to her feet, shaking visibly to Grazetti in the gapes of underbrush. The green-skinned shaman waited, still in awe herself, as the rogue staggered messily back towards the clearing, seeming in a daze with her eyes huge and round and her mouth open in silent shock.

"Told ya."

"Wh-..." the disoriented rogue stumbled when she finally reached the gap in the jungle and hugged a nearby tree for support. "What?"

"I said, I _told ya!"_ Grazetti grinned a smug grin, then winced and cupped her nose, deciding smiling wasn't the best thing to be doing at the moment. Gloating, however, was.

"T- told me-," the gnome's legs- and voice- were shaking so hard she lost her footing again, "Told me what?"

"I'm a shaman, _dumbass_," she spat, getting to her own feet with excessive care of the mud. It almost seemed as if the earth steadied beneath her hands and boots as she rose. Despite the sickening throb of her now noticeably swollen, bruised nose, she had to smile again.

"And I'll-..." she realized the tang of blood filled her mouth, and she gagged, spitting into the dirt. Swiping her fingertips against her cheek, they came back black and brown with mud and makeup. Wrinkling her nose at the thought of what she must look like, the goblin pondered what would be the coolest thing to say next. She had obviously won regardless.

"Aw, just beat it, stupid," she sighed after a moment. Or-" before she could finish, another briefer blast of wind, more like a cough, toppled the already unsteady gnome over with another shriek. Thunder rumbled deeply somewhere in the writhing mass of clouds overhead.

"Just get out of here! You're a punk, but I'm done wit' ya today!" Grazetti watched, pleased when the headstrong little rogue actually did up and run, taking off into the jungle in the direction of the road in obvious defeat. A miscreant tree root jumped up animatedly- _it really moved!_ the shaman laughed mentally, delighted- in her path and tripped the retreating gnome. As far as Grazetti knew, the messy gnome regained her footing for the umpteenth time that day somewhere out of sight. It was a moment before she realized she heard no typical crashing in the underbrush as she had expected. _Pah, rogues._

The light rain still trickled serenely down from the canopy and was hopefully in the process of washing away the worst of the hideous mask of watery mud, blood and melted makeup from her face. Grazetti sighed, retrieving her flanged mace after pawing through the brush for a minute or two and, after returning to where it had fallen, kicked the remains of her shield. It lay brokenly in the puddle of water that was pooling in the gouges made from tearing up the soft dirt. She certainly wasn't going to lug it back to the port, miles to the south, just to throw it away.

"Crap," the idea of needing to buy a new one was something Grazetti was reluctant to think about. Well-made stuff like that cost a lot of damn money! Maybe next time she'd buy something even sturdier. Metal, maybe...

A third, gentler sigh through the air firmly ruffled her clothing and hair, and Grazetti turned to face the direction it had come from, not knowing exactly where to look but assuming it was the closest thing to face-to-face acknowledgment.

"Yeah, thanks- uh, thank you. I guess I owe ya guys," she shrugged. "I promise, I'll be good! Well, mostly." She winked previously and was nearly blown over and on to the rear. "Okay! Okay! I'll be_ really_ good. Whaddya want? No more oil in the creeks?" The trees creaked quietly in the resulting breeze. "Fine, that works." As the goblin was trudging off, angling south through the jungle as to not encounter the rogue again on her way to the road, she noticed a long, leafy, spiny herb laying neatly uprooted on a solid patch of ground.

"Really! You're the best!" Delighted, she snatched up the plant which was, if she thought about it, the sole reason for the entire encounter. Tiny, blistering, hair-like spines stung into her palm. _Oh, right._

"Ffff-... Yeeeah," she bit back a curse, wondering if foul language was "improper" to use in the spirits' presence. Any other time she would have just left the irritating plant there and let Kraz find his own spell components of whatever. However, as 'they' had taken the time to get it for her, she gingerly lifted it by the thornless roots to carry back to town, "Best at what though, I can't say."

A bubble in the rain, like laughter, sounded through the trees.


End file.
